


He Remembers

by youheldyourbreath



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy is so in love with her, F/M, canon!verse, he knows and loves every version of her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:03:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youheldyourbreath/pseuds/youheldyourbreath
Summary: Clarke tries to stop Bellamy from saying goodbye. He will not be deterred.Or, if Roan hadn't interrupted and Bellamy told Clarke that he loved her.





	

He has to go back to Octavia. 

He never should have left. 

And that's the great tragedy of the Blakes: they will always hurt each other and they will always love each other. Bellamy knew the minute he brushed past Clarke and climbed into the Rover that if the end of the world was really coming his final days had to be spent with her. When the world burned he would be right beside his little sister shielding her with his body if it came down to it.

That kind of love, the kind that only families have for one another, was innate to him. Octavia and Bellamy. Bellamy and Octavia. That was the way the world had begun for him and that was the way, dammit, it would end.

But then, sometimes he looks at Clarke and he remembers that the end of the world is coming for her, too. He only has so much time and his heart is split right down the middle. He's not naive enough, he muses, to think that Clarke knows how he loves her or how much. He had always thought they'd have more time. Time for everything, time to let her heal and open her heart up to the possibility of a them. 

There is no time now. Not with the radiation.

Bellamy glanced at Clarke looking across what feels a vast sea. This version of Clarke reminded him of the drop ship, when they used to laugh and drink and make their own rules. When the only problem they had was the grounders that were trying to kill them. That much has not changed. But everything else? It's all different. Including Clarke.

She doesn't smile much now, Bellamy noticed. She hasn't smiled since the mountain, not really. And when she had smiled at him in the Rover, when they had nearly collided, he couldn't help but smile back dumbfounded. Clarke Griffin was like the warmest, freshest part of a Spring morning when she smiled. He remembered her laugh, too. That had died with Finn and the life she'd plunged into his stomach to spare him from the grounder's wrath. 

There were all of hear versions of Clarke that Bellamy had in his head. He remembered the princess on the Ark, the one he wasn't allowed to talk to because she was way above his station and Alpha station never fraternized with lower stations. He remembered the girl that first landed on the ground. He knew that girl. The one that he saved on impulse nearly a day into the Dropship occupation. The girl that spared a boy's suffering by sliding a merciful knife into his neck. He remembered the girl that closed the dropship door and he remembered making a fleeting wish that she would live, that they all would. He remembered the girl that threw herself in his arms when they reunited after she escaped Mount Weather. He remembered holding her close, burying his nose in her shoulder and thinking this is the start of something. He remembered saving her from the grounder's position and saying goodbye again to infiltrate the mountain to save their people on her behalf. He remembered the leaver. He remembered "together". And he also remembered her leaving him. He remembered how much that hurt. That Bellamy had just risked his life in enemy territory, been drained of blood and tortured by the mountain and had massacred them right by her side when she left. He remembered that anger. They were his people. His responsibility. Just like Octavia. He remembered all of his mistakes (the ones that haunted his nightmares) and the way she looked up at him with such trust when he handcuffed her to the chair. Oh, that he would never forget. He remembered the beach where they found peace in one another at last. Where forgiveness won. He remembered watching her fade from his line of sight in a blur. He remembered everything. He realizes he might be the only person in the world that knows every iteration of Clarke Griffin. 

And even if he dies in the days to come, in whatever life comes after this one he would never forget Clarke Griffin and how much he loved her. 

They didn't have time. Hell, he didn't even have the time to consider what he might say to her. If the world was going to end the only thing he wanted to do was tell her. Bellamy Blake didn't want her to die not knowing how much she was loved.

She had called him special. He wondered if she knew just how special she was to him, to everyone, to the world. The end of all things could strike him down and the world would keep turning but Bellamy seriously doubted there could be any plane of existence without her in it.

Spring, he thinks again, she looked like Spring.

He tried to speak but she stopped him mid-word. They would see each other again, she said without any hesitancy. 

Bellamy shook his head, "I have to just get this out."

"Bellamy don't," she whispered. 

He paused. This was the end of the world. The time for hesitating was done. "I love you."

She only stared.

"If things go south I wanted you to know that. Don't," he cleared his throat, "Don't feel like you have to say anything. Positive, negative, whatever. But we don't have a lot of time and that's...it, I guess."

Clarke did the only thing that could have made him love her more: she smiled. It was as beautiful and rare as the one he saw earlier. He silently added the look to the list of things he would remember about her at the end.

"So," he cleared his throat, "Roan?"

Clarke stepped into his space, her hand touched his arm gently, "Bellamy?" He forced himself to look down. "Don't go back to Arcadia. I need you."

"You need me?" 

History was repeating itself. Bellamy tried not to shrink away from the symmetry of the moment. 

"Yes. I do. There's no way we're doing this without you."

Bellamy noticed everything about her face, then. Memorizing it just in case. If the world was going to split open and swallow them all to hell he wanted this face to be what he saw every time he closed his eyes until that day. Her eyes, her beauty mark, the way she pressed her lips together when she thought she was being clever, all of it. "Sure you are," he managed, his voice was ragged, "Your Mom and Raven are much smarter than me. Luna is the nightblood. Hell, Miller has a gun. That's basically all I've got going for me."

"No," she said, her voice firm, "None of them are you." 

"I have to go to Octavia."

"I love you, too." Bellamy feels his heart stop. He doesn't dare hope or dream or wish. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "But," and there is the word he knew was coming, "But I can't. Not yet. It's too soon and too much. I always thought we'd have more time to figure this out." She says that last part like it costs her something and Bellamy suddenly loves her more desperately than before. 

Bellamy leans down and brushes his lips against her cheek. He indulges in it for only a moment before he's pulling away. Her eyes look so sad and he yearns for her long-dead laughter or one of her rare smiles. 

They occupy the same space for what might be the last time. Bellamy feels his chest cave in with the very real possibility that he could be dead soon. 

Her eyes. He latches on to those. They are what he commits to memory in excruciating detail. 

"May we meet again," is all he says.

Her eyes water.

And then he leaves.

Back to Octavia, back to Arcadia. Half of his still bleeding heart in Clarke's gentle, war-ruined hands.


End file.
